Degrees of Disclosure: A Misguided Novella By Michael W. Rice

A mystery wrapped in a riddle: See more pictures here

Prologue: The Young Egotist Leaves Offers A Context

As many know, I spent the early weeks of August at Camp Parks , California, where I participated in some Army medical training exercises. It was, decidedly, a mixed bag. But rather than bore myself (and all of you) with a monotonous chronicle of goings on, I'd like to engage myself in perhaps my most ill-advised chapter of juvenilia thus far. In short, it's the story of a girl, who was quite literally on her honeymoon, and my process of becoming, in a word, smitten. A tragic-comedy of manners, absurdity, and the unfolding of an unlikely friendship.

Chapter One: The Egotist Considers

F. Scott Fitzgerald once identified the truest mark of intelligence as the individual's ability to hold two opposing views at the same time, and still be able to function. Now that my time in California has come to an end, I find myself confronted by the indelible fact that she's leaving. And though the reality of the situation, the cold truth that she'll be taken from my life by the same strange forces that brought her into it, has hovered above me for some time now, her absence was a horizon I never thought I'd reach.

But now that ominous cloud of lonliness which for so long drifted above the far stretching plains of the future is here, and a long cool shadow has fallen upon my soul. This inexorable sense of dread is one view, but looking to the other side I see a dropping sunset of nostalgia filled with a fragile beauty. In a word, the contrasting horizons compose a panorama of her, and I can't stop looking. I feel I've started this all wrong. I must return to the beginning.

Chapter II: Emergence of the Debutante

I knew Sgt. Cheney from the infernal, myopic-ridden, ill fated Army Reserve unit which under UCMJ (the Uniform Code of Military Justice—basically a rather drab list of do's and don'ts with penalty of AN ACTUAL FIRING SQUAD for some infractions) I'm required to attend once a month. For the past few years I've managed to drag my woebegone self into the clutches of this self-proclaimed purgatory.

Lost in that sea of camouflage I wallowed in a state of self-pity and abhorred the seemingly endless eradication of the individual, the evaporation of soul and mind, retreating behind the high reaching ivory walls of literature to pass the time during drill weekend. From time to time the book would drop ever so slightly, like an inverted curtain, and I would observe the tragic comedy which played in front of me. My world was a circus, and I was nothing but a sad clown.

And it was then, rising from the churning mass of an unfortunate color scheme (dull green and mucky brown… camouflage and I never could agree) that a spark, a flash of ephemeral lightness emerged. She was unusual, uncanny, bust mostly unexpected.

Chapter III: The Egotist Takes Survey

My initial assessment of her was not good. After a brief and distant observation I felt confident she suffered from an acute affliction of dementia praecox and was harboring delusions of grandeur. I overheard her talking about "golden elves" and how it's "always good cape weather," all the while carrying herself in a way that seemed to pronounce I really don't care what you think of me. In short, she was unapologetic, boisterous, and quite possibly manic depressive. Needless to say, I was impressed.

I set about displaying my feelings the way I always do when smitten: I raised my chin a couple notches and resolved to put her on notice that I noticed her noticing me and was not interested. This was a general pattern of anti-social behavior that continued to govern my actions for the NEXT THREE YEARS OF MY LIFE.

Chapter IV: A Course is Set

It seems a time for honesty, so I'll admit that I did know in advance that she's be coming to California with me. I spent a considerable amount of time considering how to handle the situation. After heavy thought and ample brooding I realized that my behavior for the last three years, which is to say my utter indifference to her existence, was just what the doctor ordered. If something is not broke, why ever fix it?? My plan was essentially to follow suit with the previous one—just keep my chin raised and do not, under any circumstances, let her notice me noticing her. I felt good, mature, wise, and my self esteem sailed to new heights. I was flying!

So, with my course set, I launched my vainglorious vessel, opened my sails and expected the best. And by best I mean worst. Naturally.

Chapter V: The Supercilious Sacrifice

I believe in a handful of certainties in life, and they must be held onto with the tightest of fists. It's my submission that one of these universal truths is that life rarely goes according to plan. In fact, life often times happens as we are busy making other plans. So it came as little surprise when that fateful morning of departure for California, still under the dwindling stars of an early morning still black as pitch, that my first encounter with her was a disaster.

Standing in the Houston terminal, still surfacing from a sleep that clung to my body, I saw her walking right up to me. At twenty paces away I ran through my plan, quickly composed myself, my chin slowly escalated, and put on an _expression of apathy laced with resentment. But she closed in quickly, and things became unsteady, and shot of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and all composure was lost. Only ten feet away, I could see a radiant confidence glowing from her body and I was overcome by the reluctant realization that I was outclassed. And a single, consuming thought entered my head: She is coming over to talk to me!! What to do!!??

So I altered my plan and decided to play it cool-after all, she probably had to spend a great deal of time working up the courage to approach me and she'll probably be falling all over herself. Clearly I had to take control of the situation. I took a breath and decided I'd speak first, just to take some of the pressure off her; you know, help her to relax a bit and know that I'm not too cool for her. But what to say!!?? I was drawing blanks! Things got very slow, and I remember my mouth opened, unwillingly, and I managed to whisper, "Uhh, hey there, how—"

And as quickly as she approached she was gone, and I stood there alone, plunging head first into an existential crisis, trying to scrape what was left of my dignity off the polished airport floor. Another certainty of life emerged: sometimes we are done before we even get started.

Chapter VI: A Desperate Bid for Dignity

From there, things got better. By better, and you should know this by now, I mean absolutely worse. A mere thirty minutes later our paths intersected once more, only this time the delusion of us being star-crossed lovers had become a black hole, one that had already managed to consume my pride and confidence into a dark nothingness. She casually walked past me as I was buying a cookie and ordered a pretzel. And in that sobering, metaphorical moment a wave of clarity capsized my illusions. Our contrasting baked goods exposed the yawning divide between our souls. I was one with the cookie: flat, semi-sweet, stale. And she was the pretzel: enigmatic, curled, and enticing.

In a desperate bid for some morsel (get it?) of dignity I began scoffing and being generally angst-ridden, hoping she'd take notice. But her gaze was resolute and I had failed to register on her radars. Through my self-absorption and pseudo-anguish, it felt good to know my absurdity was still intact. I whispered some bad poetry in her direction, spit on the ground and muttered a spell, performed an about face and marched triumphantly away, like a prize show horse, casting her from my memory. And by casting her from my memory I mean replaying the incident with the intensity of a referee trying to determine if the final shot had made it through the hoop before the buzzer. But I was just an air ball-in a game that wasn't even being played.

Chapter VII: Experiments in Convalesence

The next ten days are something of a blur, flowing together with a wooden smoothness. Certain memories do stand out like splinters, and I feel them still. It was an unlikely friendship at best, built upon a foundation that falls far short of any reasonable rationale. Perhaps it can be put best with the speculation that there are forces in this world that do not operate under the same principles that govern our sanity. After all, who has not succumbed to that measure of madness which we all possess, those enigmatic decisions and emotions which go against the grain of our very being? Is this curious force not one we overtly curse yet secretly welcome? And do we not, in some inexplicable way desire to be invaded by foreign voices which echo from a place no light enters? I digress…

Chapter VIII: The Egotist Becomes a Personage

Over the past two weeks I've seen the development of a friendship spring from that measure of madness. Sure there are tangible occurrences that I can wrap my mind around; her insatiable desire to challenge grown men into eating crackers, a kung-fu karate chop routine followed immediately by an introspective retreat into a world of the Forgotten Realms, the countless theories on life which chiefly concerned bathroom humor, boobs, and good wine, an obstinate existential crisis and alienation from a world gone mad. Or maybe it's just that you recognize a good soul, mind and heart when you see it, and nothing more can ever be said; it just is.

Chapter IX: Narcissus Off Duty

The time has passed, and it would have passed no matter what, but it passed easier with her around. She had an ability to soften the corners of life, and what more can one ever ask of friendship?

In the end, through the brief violent time we shared, she has somehow become what she was before she ever began: an exotic bird, in perpetual suspension above me. I can't stop looking up to her, and I trip and stub my toes still. But the memories are grounded within me, anchored down by bittersweet nostalgia (is there any other kind!) and a tender sadness.

Epilogue: A Hasty, Unsatisfactory Conclusion

I hold both views and struggle to make sense of it all. If I will be able to function, I know not. But how could I ever think of the time we shared and not fully realize my life was bettered by it? It's eternal, it's baffling, it's strangely beautiful, it's Bonnieology.